Theo pushed out a breath through his nose. “He knew Lucian might intercept it.”
Church gave a single nod. “He couldn’t email it either. The message would be monitored.”
“And if it gets sent to command, it gets opened—maybe at the wrong time,” Gabe finished.
The men kept considering possibilities, but Zee heard them from a distance with the words—compromised, intercept, monitored—intruding now and then.
It all made sense in a terrible way.
Matt had hidden information in the only place he thought it might have a chance at surviving. With her. His wife.
Sitting there in that office, Zee felt less like the recipient of his last messages and more like a storage locker.
The thought hurt more than she wanted it to. She had been healing. Moving forward with her life. She was finding happiness at last.
Now she was just…scraped hollow.
As the meeting broke up, Church touched her arm. She pushed to her feet and followed him out of the office.
“Are you okay, honey?” He pitched his voice low.
She spun to face him. “I feel like I understand so much more about our relationship now.”
He caught her arm, concern pinching his brows. “What do you mean?”
“He clearly knew this would potentially be the last package he ever sent me—the last communication we ever had. And other than ‘all my love,’ it’s completely impersonal. Matt was more of a SEAL than a husband. I expected more, but he died a hero, not a husband.”
Church didn’t try to defend Matt. He just stood close, ready to pick up the pieces after she fell apart.
She slashed a hand through the air. “Even during 9/11 people in the hijacked plane sent voice messages to their loved ones. Special messages along with business matters like the combination to their safe. I didn’t get that. I got ‘all my love’ and a card with a useless QR code.”
The bitterness in her voice surprised even her. Meanwhile, Church watched her hurt spill over. She could feel him analyzing the situation, probably wondering if he should offer her comfort but afraid to overstep.
She didn’t wait for him to decide what to do.
She stepped right into his arms and held on tight.
Chapter Twelve
Two days weren’t enough to lift the weight of that package from Church’s mind. In fact, it sat there like a landmine he and Zee were tiptoeing around.
The Black Heart Security team all had eyes on it during a second meeting, and they’d turned the letter over every way they knew how. They cross-referenced numbers and input the QR code time and time again. It always looped back to the same dead end.
He’d studied the photos until the details all blurred together. And still—nothing useful. Just more questions and the same sense that Matt had tried to say something important but died before he could make it plain.
Church sat on the bench outside the therapy lodge with his elbows braced on his knees, staring across the rugged landscape without really seeing it.
Today the movie set was dark. Production was taking a break after the rain turned the ground to mud, and under normal circumstances he would’ve welcomed the time off. He wished his damn mind would take a break too. Instead he was restless, left with too much time to circle the same things.
Matt’s letter. Lucian’s birthday. Syria. The way Zee had gone pale when she realized the package wasn’t intended to soothe the loss she felt at all, but was only for safekeeping information.
The ranch moved around him, never pausing just because his thoughts needed to. Men loaded a wagon with hay bales across the parking area, their voices carrying on the breeze.
The rumbling grind of a tractor rolled across the property. Somewhere nearby a door banged open and shut. Someone laughed.
At breakfast that morning, Willow had invited Zee to join her and the other ladies for a fall festivities planning session.
Church had noticed the way she looked up from her coffee, surprise ghosting across her beautiful face for half a second before a small smile edged her mouth. She’d been more withdrawn the past few days, and though she wasn’t exactly distant, she had pulled inward. Like part of her was back in that loft, still holding Matt’s letter.
